


if the fates allow

by hissingmiseries



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Christmas Eve, Family, Fluff, M/M, Making Out, One Shot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-06 17:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8762155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hissingmiseries/pseuds/hissingmiseries
Summary: It's that time of year, though, where everything feels soft: the air, the trees, the steam rising from mugs of Bob's hot chocolate. Liv's smile as she turns the radio up full blast to dance. The look in Aaron's eyes as he watches her.
Or, it's the most wonderful time of the year.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bugmadoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugmadoo/gifts).



> this is just a little ficlet of the boys at christmas time. short and sweet. title is, of course, from _have yourself a merry little christmas_.
> 
> happy birthday, fiona! i hope you enjoy this! x

Festivity creeps into their living room like a thief; it brings tinsel and pine and bad music, hanging from every branch of the tree, waiting behind every corner. Snow usually waits in Emmerdale until the starting fringes of February but this year it decides to arrive early, to come down almost entirely in one go and coat the village in that blinding white that sends your eyes funny. It's that time of year, though, where everything feels soft: the air, the trees, the steam rising from mugs of Bob's hot chocolate. Liv's smile as she turns the radio up full blast to dance. The look in Aaron's eyes as he watches her.

Robert has always had a soft spot for this time of year. He thinks you're a miserable bastard if you don't.

 

He used to hate it. Surprise surprise, he was a miserable bastard too; he once spent Christmas on somebody's sofa. Mariah Carey had bled in from the opposite flat and he'd shivered, curled up into himself. Thought about Vic, Diane, Andy. His dad.

But now he's here, and the village is decked out in light and Aaron is in front of him, scooping snow up into his gloved hands and launching it at his baby sister who's running around, ducking and squealing. There's a pair of antlers on her head, lopsided, clinging on. Aaron just looks - well, he looks like someone who's having so much fun that it's shining out of every pore of his skin. His smile is radiant - like the sun that's missing from the sky is in him, between his teeth.  

 

A snowball comes flying his way. Robert ducks theatrically and Liv holds herself as she laughs.

"Your sister's dangerous," he says to Aaron, who just shrugs, half a smirk in the curve of his mouth. "I'm scared for my life here."

Aaron looks gentle against the white background. His curls stand up in irritated little tufts and his lips are red. He looks up at Robert with soft eyes, soft and hopeful like he does a lot nowadays and Robert loves him.

That's nothing new but it hits him every now and again, like the sun in his eyes.

They used to hide things like that. It used to scare him. Now it makes him proud.

 

-

 

Robert is not a late sleeper. He wakes early, before his alarm.

He wakes up alone, too; the bed isn't  _empty,_ not with Aaron's dip in the mattress and Aaron's jumper on the floor but Aaron isn't physically there and Robert immediately knows something's up. 

He's about to panic when he hears rattling coming from downstairs. Someone swears in a deep, gruff voice, followed by the tearing of paper. Ah. That explains it.

Robert yawns, stretches out like a cat, arching his back. It's the twenty-fourth today; one more day to go.

Bloody hell. It's been one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it years. This time last year, he was scrapping over ownership of the pub and his marriage was in tatters and Aaron was miserable and he had nothing, really; now he's living in a pub with too many people and there's a new ring on his finger, one that feels like it belongs there. It's - fucking weird, is what it is. But it's a nice weird, if that makes sense. It's like seeing new colours; he never knows what to expect but for the first time in like, forever, he's not worried about what's coming.

And what's coming is a wedding. A proper wedding. 

But first it's Christmas, their first Christmas, and even Robert has to admit: he's been looking forward to this.

 

He fishes a jumper from his drawers and it's thin, it doesn't keep out the cold and by the way it fits strangely across his shoulders, he can immediately tell that it's Aaron's. Not that he minds - it smells like cheap hair gel and something else unidentifiable but so inherently Aaron that he recognises it in a second. Aaron will complain, no doubt; he always does when Rob borrows his clothes, says that he stretches them and makes them lose their shape.

Robert argues that if Aaron spent a bit more money on clothes, they wouldn't shrink in the wash like they do. Semantics, really.

His phone reads,  _05:32_. Too early for him on a normal day, definitely too early for Aaron. 

It's still dark outside; he glances out the window and Emmerdale is still asleep, bar a few birds here and there. Snow has fallen: everything is delicate and pure and still. The Christmas lights are still on, dots of red and green and warm yellow glowing in patterns. He smiles to himself. The village cleans up well when it needs to.

 

He pads downstairs, avoiding turning on the main light. "Aaron?"

"Mornin', Rob," is the reply. The living room is - a mess, really, but it usually is. "You're up early."

"So are you." Robert rubs his eyes; it takes him a few seconds to realise the expanses of red are actually spools of unwound wrapping paper, littered all over the place. He pauses. "Please tell me you're not wrapping presents."

Aaron looks up, eyes wide. "Shh! Don't let Liv hear ya." 

"You are, aren't you?" He recognises the boxes near Aaron's lap - things they'd bought Liv literal months ago. Robert had intended to wrap them the night they'd got them but it was the first night they'd got to themselves and Aaron had crawled atop of him. It was a good distraction.

"Shuddup." Aaron looks tired, exhausted really. There are strips of tape stuck to his leg. "But first, make us a cuppa, will ya?"

Robert rolls his eyes and obliges.

The kettle whistles and he makes them coffee, sits cross-legged beside him on the floor. He sees more paper than carpet.

"Liv won't be up for hours yet," Robert says, blowing across the surface of his mug. "We can go back to bed."

Aaron sighs, his mouth turning down at the corners. "Nah, I'd rather just - get this done now. It's Christmas, innit? Can't be in bed all day."

"Technically it isn't Christmas 'till tomorrow," Robert argues. He'll argue tooth and nail for a bit more time with Aaron, to be honest. It's the best thing in the world: Aaron's smile and Aaron's eyes and Aaron beside him under a duvet, he learned that a long time ago. "But I see your point."

Watching him grapple with Sellotape is amusing, if frustrating. It's like a kitten with a ball of string, all arms and teeth. It's cute.

Eventually, though, he has to put Aaron out of his misery. "Give it here," Robert says, plucking the stack of DVDs from Aaron's lap along with the roll of tape and what's left of the wrapping paper. A blind man can tell which of them wrapped a present; Robert's are neat, or at least socially acceptable. Aaron's - well. 

Aaron looks up at him, sheepish but smiling. "Thanks. 'm useless at it, anyway."

"Have you eaten?" It takes some salvaging but Robert manages to get the wrapping looking somewhat presentable. The corners are a little torn but oh well, it all gets torn up int the end. 

"Nah, I've been waiting for you," is Aaron's reply, to which Robert automatically stands and makes his way over to the toaster. Buttered toast is no delicacy but it's not even six a.m. and the smell of bacon frying would rouse the whole pub from its sleep. And he really can't be arsed this morning. It's Christmas: he's allowed to be lazy.

 

They eat quickly. Robert thumbs a crumb caught in Aaron's beard and kisses him, wholly, warmly. Aaron kisses back and they stand there for a while, against the kitchen counter before Aaron pushes him back, pink and grinning.

"We've got stuff to do today," he announces. "Don't get comfy."

It's  _Christmas_ , Rob thinks, sullenly. Liv's excuses have started rubbing off on him, it seems.

"Like what?" he asks, frowning.

Aaron looks at him like he's been challenged. "Get presents from Vic's, and Lisa's - oh, and I offered to do a Tesco run for Lise, get stuff for Christmas dinner an' all that. The poor woman's gonna be cookin' for about twelve of us, the least we can do is help out."

Robert smiles slightly; Aaron hasn't a selfish bone in his body but it shines around his family. "Tesco's going to be crammed; everyone will be doing the same."

"We'll have to be quick then," Aaron says. It starts snowing again outside, thick and fast.

 

Liv sleeps in, doesn't come downstairs until gone nine. Her hair's a mess and she's wearing one of Aaron's old t-shirts.

"They weren't there this mornin'," she observes, looking at that morning's handiwork beneath the tree. "You two been out already?"

Robert exchanges a smirk with Aaron over his third mug of coffee and shakes his head. "Nah," he says. "Your brother's just lazy."

Aaron looks offended, especially when Liv just scoffs in agreement and flops down onto the sofa. There's nothing but Christmas movies on television, and it's not like she's got school today.

 

 -

 

They get dressed in record time and then lose all that time in the bathroom, Robert taking advantage of the locked door and kissing trails down Aaron's neck, flushing it pink. He could do this for hours. They have, before - just lazy little pecks here and there, whenever they have the time, the opportunity. It's selective when people are around but it's easy when it's just them, alone.

Aaron pushes him off again, a hand in Robert's hair. "We have to go."

Robert makes a petulant noise somewhere in his throat but goes along with it.

 

They pull up to Vic's and it's freezing. Her house has the majority of lights on it, and she's left them on, clearly favouring the aesthetic over the electricity bill.

"Shall I run and get us some drinks?" Aaron asks, gesturing over to Bob's café. 

Robert pauses, before shaking his head. "No, I think she wants to see us both. See how we're doing, you know what she's like."

Aaron adores Victoria, always has and always will, but he lets out a little grumble at that. "We'll be in there all day."

Robert laughs - he's not wrong. 

 

He barely knocks on the door before Vic's there, yanking it open.

"Rob!" she beams, before spotting the other face. "Aaron! Oh, happy Christmas, lads!"

Before they can do anything she's throwing herself at them, a little ball of warm and brown hair, smelling like cake. There are smudges of flour all over her face and clothes, and Robert spots her apron in time to violently hold himself away. "You been baking, Vic?" he asks, dusting himself down as she moves to Aaron.

"Yep!" she says brightly, into Aaron's shoulder. "Just pudding, for tomorrow. I'm sure between Adam and his brothers, it'll be gone by midday."

There's a silhouette of flour down Aaron's front. Robert snickers.

 

They follow her inside and her sitting room looks like Christmas morning; there's a sea of presents all in glittering paper and those big maxi-bags stuffed to the brim with further goodies. 

It's clear what Vic's intentions are when she unloads all the presents into Aaron's arms. "They'll fit in the boot, right?" she says with a cheesy grin and Robert doesn't need to see Aaron's face from behind the mountain of gifts to know what he's mouthing.

He goes, though, out the front door. Victoria shuts it behind him a little too quickly.

"So," she begins, looking up at Robert. "How are you doing?"

He narrows his eyes at her. "Fine."

"You ready for Christmas?" she continues; her eyes are wide, bright. Everything about her is bright today. "Your _first_ Christmas together?" she adds with a knowing smile.

 _Ah._ "Sounds like you're more excited than me," he replies. Her face falls, and he runs to patch it up. "Not that I'm not excited. I mean, it's a milestone, isn't it?"

That makes her grin. She's special, his sister - she's composed entirely of love, so much so that it's impossible _not_ to love her. Robert loves her; completely, viscerally. "Any plans, or am I just gonna show up and you'll all be drunk?"

Robert shrugs. "We're all going up to Lisa's - me, Aaron and Liv."

He likes saying those three names, one after the other: they fit together, comfortably.

Victoria perches herself on the arm of her couch. Her hair spills down her back, over her shoulders. "So you're all going to be hammered then. Noted."

"Liv won't - well, knowing Liv, she'll find a way," he says.

There's a pause. Vic runs her eyes over him, studying him almost maternally; it puts him on the spot a bit but he's so used to it by now, living with Chas and Diane. 

Then she speaks, suddenly. "You - you look really  _happy,_ Rob," she smiles, eyes creasing at the corners. 

Robert breathes, allows himself to smile too. "I am." It must shine out of him, he thinks. Sometimes when he walks down the street, he thinks people must be able to see it on his skin, Aaron's touch and his fingerprints, able to see it in the easy curve of his grin. Obvious, glaring. The silver ring on his finger must seem dull in comparison. "Yeah, I am."

"Good," she nods, affirmingly. "You look it. Aaron looks it, too."

That's always good to hear. He sees it every day, of course, but Robert is always looking to make sure Aaron is content, is happy, is as happy as he can physically be. He misses Aaron, which is ridiculous since he's only been gone for five minutes; he always misses Aaron when he goes. Robert isn't sure when he started pining like a lost puppy but it's basically part of him now.

He likes knowing other people can see it. It means it's not just him. "He does?"

"Please, he never used to smile like that," she says. "What's your secret?"

Robert bites back his real answer and just shrugs, smiling a little.

 

"Shall I make you both a cake?" she asks, reaching up to dust a fleck of flour from his jacket. 

"I _am_ capable of baking, Vic," he replies.

She looks at him pointedly. "You're a chef, Rob, not a baker. Don't stretch yourself."

Robert doesn't have the energy - or the capacity, really - to be offended, so he leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Have a good Christmas, yeah? Don't get too drunk."

She smiles into him, close enough to trap him in a hug. "You too. Look after each other."

 

(She ends up baking them a cake. Chocolate, layered with vanilla. Robert goes back for it in the afternoon, balancing the box on his arms and he hugs her again as he turns to leave because she's his little sister and you only get the one.

Well, he does, anyway. 

"It's your fault if I put on tons of weight this year," he says. "Between this and the Dingles' dinner, I'll explode."

Vic grins and tugs the lapels of his jacket straight, adjusts the collar of his shirt. "It's Christmas, you're supposed to stuff your face."

She's looking at him like that - like she's happy for him, like she's  _proud_ of him and god, it feels strange; he's wanted it for so long and he's never realised it, not really. He's spent months building himself up to be someone that Aaron would be proud of but it's moments like this when he realises that it's not just Aaron who deserves a better Robert.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says, stroking her hair gently. She smiles up at him, all dimpled cheeks and fake rabbit ears. "Merry Christmas.")

 

-

 

He steps out onto the street. The snow crunches beneath his feet.

Aaron is in the car, rolls down the window and smiles, very softly. "What did she want?"

"Life lecture," Robert replies, opening the door and sliding in. The car smells like air freshener and Aaron's cologne. "As per."

"She loves ya, really," Aaron says and revs the engine, buckles his seatbelt. Robert takes the few seconds to curl a hand around the back of his fiancé's neck and turn his face towards him and kiss him, hard and fast.

Aaron makes a startled sound, and melts into it quickly. "What were that for?"

"Don't need a reason, do I?"

Aaron shrugs.  _Fair enough_. He's smirking and there's still flour everywhere, grains of it in the fabric of his shirt. "S'pose ya don't," he says, very quietly.

There's love in his eyes. Robert never used to be able to recognise it but now he can; it's amazing, having someone look at him and not wanting anything from him, just looking with pure, unadulterated love.

He's never really had that before either. Aaron's brought a lot to him.

He realises that sometimes, too.

 

-

 

Wishing Well Cottage is crowded and brown, and very, very warm. 

"Afternoon, lads," Lisa greets them with a smile, pulling Aaron into a hug and even Robert with soft, crinkled eyes. Her hair's up in her bun and she looks busy, rushed off her feet. "You both alright?"

Aaron nods, hands in his pockets. "Yeah, yeah, we're good."

Something's cooking, something rich and gamey. It smells amazing.

The mutt of a dog is asleep, belly-up on the couch. Belle is at the kitchen table, looking up and offering them smiles when they walk in. There are stacks of papers and folders in front of her: college work. Robert stares; he wishes he had the tenacity to work through Christmas. He's barely got the energy left to count the number of presents under the tree, never mind write essays. 

Belle is a very strong girl. She's a Dingle - of course she is. The Dingles are strong. Robert's never been deserving of them.

"Prepared for tomorrow?" Lisa asks them both, smiling. 

Robert scoffs, lightly. "He was still wrapping presents this morning." He nudges Aaron gently, playfully, and Aaron looks at him with those happy, familial eyes.

"Oh, ya  _weren't_ ," Lisa says, indignant. She's a mother; procrastination is blasphemous to them, it seems. She turns to Belle. "Men, eh?"

Belle sours a little; it's obviously still a touchy subject for her, not that it is for anyone else. The loss of Bailey from the village seemed like the early Christmas gift the family needed. Still, she takes it in her stride, turning her mouth up at the corners. "How's Liv doin'?"

"As feral as ever," is Robert's immediate reply.

"Be nice," Aaron says, mostly joking but a little bit not. Robert smiles, reassuring. 

"She's fine," he says. "Out with Gabby in the snow."

That's when Lisa steps forward, a crumpled paper in her hand. It's littered with scribbled words and she hands it to Aaron hesitantly. "Now, are ya _sure_ you're okay with this 'cause I am more than capable of goin' out later and doin'-"

"Lise," Aaron interjects, taking the list from her. He scans it quickly -  _carrots, green beans, crackers, napkins_ \- and folds it, slips it into his pocket. "It's fine. You've got enough work to do."

She beams and it's - rewarding, surprisingly. Robert has always liked gratitude but it's usually not for things as mundane, as domestic as this. Aaron also looks pleased with himself. 

She runs her hand up Aaron's arm. "Thanks, love. Thanks both of ya."

 

Tesco is manic, to say the least. They're in and out of there as quickly as their trolley carries them, picking a few bits up for themselves as well as Lisa. Things don't fall out of step until Robert puts Aaron's hair gel back on the shelf and Aaron doesn't notice until they pull up to the checkout.

"Where's the -  _Robert,_ " he says, narrowing his eyes.

Robert gives him his best, most dazzling smile. It works.

 

They pull the car back in at the cottage. Carry the bags in like they're pack horses and leave with more presents than Santa's bloody workshop.

"She's bought me mum perfume," Aaron says, closing the car door behind them. It's Robert's car, for obvious reasons. "And I think I saw sommat for you in there."

Robert pauses, unsure of what to expect, what to say. It's not much but - it's something. 

Aaron notices, and reaches over the divider for Robert's hand. They meet, fingers locked and it's natural at this point, automatic. It feels right. "Looks like they're startin' to take to ya."

"Oh, sure," Robert says. "I wonder what Cain's got me."

There's a beat before Aaron _giggles_ : actually giggles, like a mischievous child. He sounds like Liv. "Depends how much a nail-bomb costs."

 

-

 

They get back to the pub when suddenly everything goes really fucking cold.

Robert stumbles back, half-blinded by white and somewhere beside him Aaron recoils like a snake. It feels like ice, like liquid nitrogen seeping into his veins and he's quick to scrape whatever's all over his face away with his sleeve. His teeth start chattering quietly and ugh - he hates Christmas, he decides.

At least, he decides that for about three seconds, until he sees Liv there, antlers on her head and an armful of snowballs. Aaron is in the same position as him: ambushed, with a red mark on his cheek from the impact, but his head is thrown back and he's laughing freely, uncontrollably.

"Nice one," Aaron says to his little sister, scooping down to pick up snow. His hands aren't gloved and his fingers are bright pink, trembling a little. "Come 'ere."

He launches it. Liv squeals.

 

"Your sister's dangerous. I'm scared for my life."

Aaron grins, flecks of snow in his head and he has to stand up on his tiptoes to press his mouth to Robert's cheek. Robert's arm instinctively finds its way around Aaron's waist and if it wasn't for the torrent of snowballs that follow, Robert would have happily stayed like that: kissing Aaron until he's numb, and not from the cold.

 

-

 

Chas has decorated the pub even more. It looks good. It looks  _really_ good.

It goes dark quickly and for some reason, afternoon drinking is acceptable as long as it at least _feels_ like nighttime. So, by the time six o'clock rolls around, the bottles of brandy and mulled wine have been cracked open in the back room and the alcohol is flowing freely.

"Right, well," Charity begins, raising her glass. Her hair is long and braided and the make-up around her eyes is smudged slightly. "Here's to a decent Christmas, for once."

It's not the most festive of toasts but it's pretty fitting, to be honest.

 

Liv talks Aaron into allowing her one glass of wine. She's asleep within half-an-hour. It turns out she holds her vodka much more easily than Sangiovese.

Aaron carries her upstairs then returns, slots back into the space next to Robert on the couch. Everything's slightly hazy with drunkenness and Chas and Charity are cackling like mad witches over the television, meanwhile Robert has somehow acquired a Santa hat on his head and his eyes are half-lidded with fatigue. They're relaxed, settled. Things are calm.

The tree lights are on, dots and flecks of blue spreading out against white ferns. Aaron is wearing Robert's jacket. He curls up into it every now and again, dips his nose into the collar; it smells like Robert's faded cologne, mellow and warm.

They watch bad television shows and get progressively more drunk until Charity can't take it anymore, stands up and slurs something about Christmas before dragging herself upstairs. Chas is soon after, stopping to plant a kiss on Aaron's forehead before disappearing too. It's just them, now: just them and a couch, and a lit-up tree and a Santa hat. 

 

The conversation runs out, replaced by a stretch of light silence but Robert doesn't mind and he doubts Aaron does either. Still, he needs to do something because all of Aaron's weight is against him and while he usually wouldn't complain about that, he's cutting off blood circulation here.

"Hang on," Robert says, shifting a little. Aaron sits up then settles back into the new mould. "You alright?" His arm is twisted around Aaron's shoulders at an awkward angle but he doesn't mind. 

Aaron stirs a little and looks up, eyes gleaming a little in the darkness. "'m drunk," he offers. They're knitted together, it seems, on the couch; this isn't as new as it used to feel, back then when they were feeling their way back together but now it doesn't feel like it ever _was_ new. It's warm, soft; comfortable. 

Rob lets out this soft little huff and rubs his eyes. "Same here."

 

Fabric crinkles as Aaron moves, rests his head against the broad stretch of Robert's shoulder, Robert's torso. He can hear a heartbeat, thrumming rhythmically, softly. He must leave grooves with how often he's there.

Robert takes the opportunity to lean down, brush his lips against the top of Aaron's head. "I love you."

Aaron smiles; he doesn't have to think about it anymore. "Ready for tomorrow?"

"Oh, aye," is the reply, Dingle talk bleeding in inconspicuously. "It's going to be havoc, isn't it?"

"Christmas at the Well? God, yeah. Always is."

Robert remembers Christmases with the Whites - bland, boring, soulless things. As bright as heaven's gates but he had to get stone drunk to at least somewhat enjoy himself. Not like now. "So I'm definitely going with you, then?"

"Course," Aaron says, brow furrowing a little. "Why wouldn't ya be?"

There's a little pause before Robert continues. His voice has lowered slightly, at its own accord. "Well - it's the Dingles, isn't it? None of them can stand me."

"Tough shit, I'm marryin' ya," is the sure reply. "They'll have to get used to it."

Robert feels himself beam, feels the smile physically unfurl across him, this big, broad thing; it all comes back to Aaron, in the end. All the months -  _years,_ even - they spent in barns, in hospital beds, walking around on knife edges has all come back to this. To them, on this couch. It always comes back to them.

That scares Robert sometimes. He doesn't believe in fate or soulmates or all that shit but this is the closest he'll ever come to it, he thinks.

 

He's drunk. Not unbalanced drunk but  _bad decisions_ drunk - that level of drunk where he wants to run and set things on fire but he can't, because there's an Aaron on top of him and that's never been a bad thing. Besides, Aaron has always been an impressive impulse control: that he's learnt ten times over.

So, all of those suppressed impulses manifest themselves in his fingers tracing patterns up and down Aaron's neck, and his lips peppering Aaron's hair and neck and jaw with soft kisses. He wants this: wants to explore, wants to feel every bit of Aaron beneath him. He's done it before but he wants to do it again.

Their positioning makes it awkward and Aaron squirms, playfully. "Gerroff."

"Never complained before," is Robert's very accurate argument. 

Aaron is blue in this light, blue and green and white. He gives Robert a sideways look. He's smirking a little. "Why're ya so eager?"

"I'm drunk," he says. "And it's you."

That seems to be enough; Aaron's still unresponsive, or at least pretending to be, but he lets Robert's hands settle against the curve of his jaw, lets Robert gently kiss that spot on his neck he knows makes him melt a little. His facade is working until Robert pushes into him and Aaron breathes out hard, feels his shoulders give way.

"I hate ya," he mumbles jokingly, threading his fingers through the hair at the back of Robert's neck. It's soft, little tufts of gold. 

Robert has that look in his eyes that he gets before he calls Aaron special, amazing, the best thing in the world. Aaron feeds off of it; he loves it, loves all of it, loves all of  _him._

Aaron turns his head; Robert is staring at him, the light is catching on his eyelashes. He looks hungry, drunken and hungry but also _happy_. That visible happiness, shiny and wonderful. Aaron knows he's happy but he often wonders if Robert knows that too - that Robert's smile, the way it reaches his eyes makes him a beacon, yelling out into the night that he's happy and he's stable. Aaron's always wanted that for him. Ever since they began (or, more accurately, ever since he went insane and fell head over heels for Robert fucking Sugden).

He never thought they'd get there, but that's a whole other story.

Robert moves forward. Slowly but not hesitantly - inexorably, really, like magnets. Their lips meet and it's so gentle, so soft that it almost annoys Aaron - he's used to hard, used to frantic. If they're gonna do it, then they're gonna _do it_.

 

Someone's weight shifts upstairs. Aaron startles.

"Not here," he protests, sitting up. His joints pop in complaint. "Someone'll walk in."

Robert pulls an innocent face, with stupid innocent doe eyes. "Wasn't doing anything." He looks - like an angel, really. Not that Aaron would ever admit that. Robert has a stupid ego already.

 

He kisses him again: Aaron to Robert, this time. He's never been good at resisting him.

However, it is not lust powering them - it is alcohol, so all of this is a slightly sloppy affair. When it's lust, when it's sugar and hunger then Robert knows what he's doing: he kisses pointedly, carefully, where he knows it'll make Aaron shudder. 

They're drunk, though. Their heads are fuzzy, their movements are slow and Robert's mouth is falling everywhere. Aaron lets it. It falls on his lips, his forehead, his temple, the tip of his nose, the line of yellowing hickeys down his throat; it falls everywhere and anywhere and it's such a buzz. Circuits connect when they kiss, electricity sparks through them both.

They're both too drunk to take things further than this; not that they're complaining. This right here, this moment - it's perfect. It's lazy and it's close and it's perfect.

"Aaron - ow," Robert says. He's smiling: Aaron can feel it, against his lips. "Ow."

He's slipped, his elbow is digging into Robert's thigh. He pulls back and readjusts himself, immediately apologetic and when he locks his eyes back with Robert, Rob's looking back at him like - like he's soaring. Like he's in some sort of dream.

"Comfy?" Aaron asks, mocking, and Robert smirks.

It's that stupid smirk, the one Aaron loves and hates in equal measure.

He leans in and kisses it straight off his face.

 

Somewhere in the village, Slade starts playing. It comes in through the open window, that famous Noddy Holder scream.

They've been kissing for so long they're both pink-cheeked, out of breath. Robert's top button is undone and Aaron's jacket is on the floor but they've not progressed further than that. They're just tangled together, Robert's hand cupping Aaron's face, Aaron's hands under the hem of Robert's shirt. His hands are warm and his fingerprints burn.

Aaron can't be arsed anymore - he's worn out. And drunk. It's a tiring combination.

He sinks down onto Robert's chest, lets his fingers lazily feel across the sharp edge of Rob's jaw, shiny with Aaron's presence. They've laid like this before: Aaron across Robert, paving roads between each freckle with his finger in slow, wondering awe like he can't believe that Robert's real, that Robert's beneath his body. That Robert is his.

Something white and red and furry falls in front of Robert's face. He freezes.  _Oh._

"I can't believe you're still wearin' this," Aaron snickers, batting the end of the hat away. 

Robert shrugs, grinning ever so slightly. "It's Christmas." 

"Ya look like a twat," he continues, eloquently, before kissing him again. Y'know, for good measure.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](http://festivesugden.tumblr.com/) if you want to say hi!


End file.
